I went into the Art College with Lee again today. He developed the photos from Monday evening, which were not what I’d expected; hanging around the Art College with him doesn’t do me any good in the long run. As we walked home today I came to feel my helplessness: sitting on a wall waiting for him while he was in a newsagent’s nearby, watching the traffic speed past, growing gloomier by the minute. The answers will always elude me. The effort seems just too much for me to face at moments like this.
Thought may negate life, but life must be lived and the empty conversations endured – We must “settle for half,” because most of us just exist, without purpose. Barry says he wishes he could unquestioningly and naturally link his future with some single, fulfilling idea. “If I was born in the six counties and saw the beatings and repression by the British and Loyalist forces, that would make the Republican struggle my life.”
Our degree courses occupy us as obligations, not as anything greater. Since Easter of last year I’ve been at an impasse which blocks the way ahead. For ten months now I’ve known what’s needed, but I’m as far away from it as at the beginning.
The dilemma with this diary is the following: do I mention the tiny things that make up the substance of my life from day to day? Examples: Guy’s new girlfriend Dawn; our nicknames for Ade; Lee’s constant pranks and tricks . . . or do I instead reserve these pages for other thoughts?
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